


Smoked out.

by rodrigraphics



Series: Lone Wanderer Andrés [3]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, just guys being bros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 16:36:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12511640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rodrigraphics/pseuds/rodrigraphics
Summary: Two friends experiment and consume each other's time during late hours of the night.





	Smoked out.

**Author's Note:**

> a riff from White Shoes.

The car radio read 6:01 am. The heat inside the car was on full blast, and it was so cold in contrast outside that condensation was building at the edge of the windows. Four hours had passed since Butch had randomly called him in the middle of the night, asking to hang out. But it was different, there was an uncomfortable desperate twinge in his voice. 

It seemed so important, his hands were sweaty inside his gloves when he opened the car door.   
Yet all Butch did was say hi in a meek voice, and drive them to a Walmart. Where they just sat at a table at the in-store McDonald’s ; in casual silence against the harsh fluorescent lights of the store, and sparse workers who were restocking shelves and folding clothes. And they stayed there till 4 am. The both of them just scrolling on their phones through whatever apps could entertain them so late in the night. He’d glance up every now and then and notice how Butch’s eyes were bloodshot, or catch him biting the dry skin off his lips. And his glance would turn into a lingering stare for a moment.   
Butch tapped the table, signaling him that it was time to leave. Still not speaking. But it was fine. He didn’t really want to talk either. They did curse there way out to the car though, the 28° low freezing their fingertips and leaking into their bones, chilling them to the core. Butch fumbling with his car keys as he turned the car on, both of them making clouds of vapor with each breath as the car heated up. From there, Butch drove around mindlessly for another hour, then ending at the skatepark that they made their “official” smoking spot. If something could be named that, without sounding obnoxious.  
And now for the past hour they had just sat there, under the orange tinted light of the streetlamp, looking onto the skatepark blanketed with snow. 

He reclined his seat all the way down, and closed his eyes. Not that there was anything else to do. A few minutes had passed before he heard Butch move in the driver’s seat. A hesitant hand rested on his chest. Which made him open his eyes to see Butch leaning over him, a worried look on his face. Or maybe something else he couldn’t decipher. 

“We don’t talk for the past four hours, and you decide to pull this shit with me ?” There was a tired bite in his voice. Unintentional.

“Oh shut up. you didn’t have to come, but you still did.”

He rolled his eyes and grabbed Butch’s wrist with his hand, but Butch grabbed a handful of his shirt. 

Butch licked his lips anxiously, there was hesitation and nervousness radiating off of him. “Santos—I mean Andrés, fuck alright, I just need to try something out. Can you just let me do something ?”

“You never call me by my first name, I don’t think I like it.” Butch gave an unamused stare and he gave in, “sure go for it.”

Butch leaned down closer, he could feel the heat coming off of his skin. And it almost made him sick. His grip tightened on Butch’s wrist, he knew it was coming, he did. But his stomach was full of butterflies still. He hated it.

One thing he never liked about kissing, was the sound of lips and saliva meshing together. Almost making his skin crawl. But Butch was so hesitant, and his lips were so dry, that it was more pleasant than usual. And the only sound was their slow rhythmic breathing against each other’s mouths.   
Butch was a good kisser, which maybe he should’ve expected. But he enjoyed venturing into uncharted territories ; and making out in a car at 6 in the morning before the sunrise, with a guy he had loathed for the past decade of his life, was better than most things he had experienced. Those past 10 years were thrown out the door with tonight. Which he didn’t mind. The release of tension they had held in for so long was rapturous almost, but that was an incredibly corny way to think of it. He’s not sure if either of them were aware of it till now. The situation was like a bad teenage romance book.

Neither were counting the time that went by, the both of them getting fervent with kissing the other back. But eventually Butch broke away, face flushed and eyes darting away. 

“Cool. That’s all I wanted to try.”

He pulled his seat back up, and grabbed the pack of cigarettes off the dashboard. “You’re welcome.”

“Don’t be a fucking ego cunt about it.”

“I was just joking.”

Butch grumbled under his breath. And he rolled the window down which let in a cold burst of air, blowing the smoke out the window into a curling cloud. He offered the cigarette to Butch, and Butch shook his head in decline. 

“Roll the window up, you’re letting the heat escape.”

He begrudgingly rolled the window up, even if he protested Butch would just roll it up on the control panel anyways. So it was futile.

“And you’re killing your car’s battery.”

There was no talk about the obvious hard ons they still had. 

It was only 6:34 now.

“How was it with Freddie, just curious.”

“We never fucked, Butch. We just made out and suddenly I was sucking his dick in a bathroom stall.”

“And, how was it ?”

“Okay I guess. He was so jittery about it at first, then he wouldn’t shut up and I just closed my eyes so I could ignore it. So that’s why I never noticed him taking pictures.”

Butch hummed a brief sound of acknowledgement.

“His cum tasted bad.”

“Hook, line, and sinker, just like that huh Santos ?”

He kissed his teeth and nodded lazily. Butch looked over at him, and it took him a moment to gather up courage to stare back. 

The sky was turning a catalina blue. 

Butch smiled in amusement before awkwardly crawling to the backseat of the car, almost kicking him in the head. He watched Butch shove all his clutter onto the floor of the car. It was like a horrible telepathic conversation between them. And he dragged a hand up his face and through his hair, before squeezing himself through the seats and into the back with Butch.   
The awkward nervousness set in, and Butch rubbed the back of his neck and stared at his feet.  
He scooted closer to Butch and put a hand on his knee. He noticed Butch tense up briefly, but relaxed and leaned against him a moment later. 

“I’ve never touched another guy before really.”

His thumb rubbed at Butch’s knee, “that’s fine, we can start slow.”

“Just hand jobs, okay ? Jerking off is probably the thing we’re most proficient at.”

He snorted slightly, and noticed Butch smile at that, “Okay, hope you have lotion or something at least.”

“It’s winter and I don’t like my hands cracking, so lotion, is an obvious need of mine. Check the central console.”

His mind dug itself into an odd anxiety, as his hand dug around among all the crushed receipts and trash. While he was familiar with intimacies, this was different, he wasn’t quite sure what yet. But something, like a feeling of yearning almost. From both of them, but he didn’t know the true reason behind his yet. And wasn’t sure he wanted to know Butch’s. His hand fished around till it found a small bottle. It was enough.

Their hands collided nervously, before rearranging. His pulling at Butch’s belt, and Butch’s tugging at his zipper.   
There wasn’t much to be said, both of them hitching their breath at the coldness of the lotion.

He leaned his body closer, and used his free hand to grasp at the back of Butch’s neck, his index finger curling. Butch leaned into the crook of his neck, trying to hide almost. Butch’s breath made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Heat emitting from their bodies made their faces and necks sweaty, humidly gross, yet still pleasurable.   
His eyes didn’t know where to stare, but he didn’t want to keep his eyes closed the entire time. And something sickly in his heart, wanted to keep Butch close. So he wrapped his arm around him, and pulled him in closer. He felt Butch’s free hand grasp at the back of his shirt. His mind kept flashing in brief seconds of empty minded pleasure, and he’d shut his eyes and his fingers would clutch at Butch’s sleeve. Until it went and returned, and went, and returned. And so on, for however long. Time wasn’t important to either of them.

When he opened his eyes again, the sky was becoming a gradient of orange and blue.

Butch kissed lightly at his neck, and up to his jawline in an uneven pattern, till their lips met again sloppily. Saliva coating their lips.   
He let out a ragged sigh, and Butch bit at his bottom lip like a wolf, before mumbling feverishly and hiding in the crook of his neck again. Which he found, oddly endearing.   
It was a mixture of unpleasant noises from their throats, sloppy hormones, and cum. For a peaceful moment or two, they rested their foreheads against each other’s.  
But Butch pushed him away and wiped the cum off the seat not long after. Not that he minded really, he cleaned the cum off his hand with a crumpled old napkin on the floor. His head got dizzy at the thought of licking it off.  
They were both sticky and the car was a disgusting pheromonal sauna by now, and they both desperately rolled the backseat windows down.

“The sun’s rising.”

Butch rubbed at his eyes, “yeah, yeah.”

“Wanna just come stay and sleep at my house.”

“Awfully presumptuous of you Santos.”

He quirked a brow, “how ?”

Butch kicked his shin, “you think one handjob is gonna get me to sleep with you ?” But he laughed right after, “I’m kidding, yeah sure.”

They crawled into the front seats and watched the sunrise for a few minutes in silence. He thought about how he wouldn’t mind staying in this moment forever, and then he internally gagged at the tackiness of that.  
Butch shifted from park into drive, and he leaned his face against the window and watched all the streetlights shut off one by one as they drove down the streets. 

One by one, by one, by one, by one.

When they arrived at the gated community, he hopped out of the car to put in the 4 digit pin of the gate. Making an awful noise as the metal and ice broke apart with it’s opening. While he had been brought to Butch’s house, he’d never really brought anyone to his asides from Amata. Though he knew there wasn’t going to be much to judge, except the four sets of stairs to get up to his door, and the posters on his bedroom walls possibly.  
Butch complained and groaned with each step by the time they got to the second set of stairs, and he laughed at it more than anything. Both of them huffing out exhausted clouds into the cold morning air, when they reached the door. He slid a spare key out from under their dirty ‘welcome’ mat, and unlocked the door slowly. Peeking in, to see if his dad was already downstairs. But luckily he wasn’t. The reverberation of the shower upstairs could be heard in the ceiling, so they had caught a lucky break and there would be no awkward explanations and introductions today. They stepped in soaking up the warmth of the house, and he closed the door quietly behind them. Making sure to double lock it, so it wouldn’t seem out of the ordinary. 

Butch rubbed his hands together and glanced around, “nice place, of finer tastes some would say.”

“I guess.”

He rushed Butch up the stairs and into his room, making sure to shut the door behind them quietly so his dad wouldn’t hear the disturbance. Locking it for extra measure.

Butch immediately threw himself onto the bed and stretched languidly, “cool room.”

He shrugged and kicked his shoes off before rolling in next to him, “at least take your shoes off I don’t want my comforter getting wet with dirty snow.”

Butch groaned at him, and obliged.   
They laid there in silence for a few minutes, before he sat up to take his coat off, and get under the comforter. Butch followed suit. They shivered against the coolness of the sheets, and moved in closer to one another by instinct, though both of them refused to look the other in the eye.

“Does your dad know ?”

“Know what ? That I also like dudes ?”

Butch nodded.

He half heartedly shrugged, “nah, not like he really needs to know.”

“Yeah I guess.”

“Well, my dad’s just a neutral guy. I don’t think he’d care that much about it, he’d just act supportive and forget about it or something. Unless I actually brought a guy home.”

“You brought me home.”

“This is...different.”

He gnawed on his lip briefly and stared at the ceiling, maybe his reply was too harsh. He didn’t mean for it. But Butch didn’t move away, or make a snarky response back. So he closed his eyes, he was already exhausted enough. The feeling of Butch’s breath hitting his neck gave him brief chills ; but Butch soon nudged into his shoulder, making his sleeve feel warm with each breath. It almost made his heart skip a beat, and he hated that. The sound of the shower turning off and the drips of remaining water was heard through the walls. He thought briefly about how him and his dad never divulged into personal talks, like they hardly knew each other. And it both agitated him, and made him sad. But he shoved the thought away, when he felt Butch twitch. Butch was already fast asleep, he could tell with the slight twitches every often in Butch’s fingers over his arm, and his steady breathing. Which calmed him down more than anything. This was probably one of the most pleasant experiences he’d had this year.

His dreams were vague, uncomfortable.  
Anacostia River, a place where him and Amata would drive to sometimes during Spring. At their secret spot, though not hidden, by the river bed. Where they would dip their feet in the river and share special moments, mostly conversations. Something regular, something familiar.  
The sun was bright, and reflecting on the river into his eyes. Amata was talking, but it just sounded like white noise to him. When he brought his hand up to his brow to shield his eyes, he saw Butch across the river. And something in his chest hurt, like the collection of all his boyhood anger and confused teenage feelings mashed together like a horrible knife into his heart. Yet before he knew it, he was swimming to the other side of the river, trying to at least. The pain in his chest only growing with each stroke, and Butch simply standing there. Refusing to meet him halfway.

The back of his neck was drenched with sweat when he woke up, but a cool air was hitting the left side of his body. Butch hogging the covers beside him, turned over still sleeping. He regretted bringing Butch over now, he was petty and cold. So he sat up, grabbing his coat off the floor, rummaging through the pockets for his phone.  
It was only 11:14 am. Only slept for 4 hours, less probably. There was a text, from Amata. He didn’t want to text. He wanted another human interaction other than Butch, he could smell the mixture of Butch’s cologne and cigarettes on him, and it was making him nauseous almost. 

Yet he still smothered his face with the collar of his shirt. Feeling the warmth of his breath sink into his shirt. It was dizzying, it was sickening.


End file.
